Dance or something like it
by Sacai fighter
Summary: Angeline Fowl, beloved mother of teenage genius Artemis Fowl, is giving a ball. The only problem is that her son can’t dance. Unexpected help presents itself. Very, very slightly SLASH, mostly just humour. AB
1. The Art

_**Chapter One: The Art**_

**Dancing** is a very refined art. Not disco-dancing, which consists of nothing more than to mimic having an epileptic attack whilst skiing. No, dancing, in the true sense of the word, is something else. It is performed in pairs, and requires sufficient practice and skill. Those who have that skill, that knowledge, claim that there is nothing better, nothing simpler, than easily sweeping away in graceful swirls across a shining ballroom floor. To others, getting through the intricate combinations of hands, feet, steps and spins seems more impossible than comprehending the German edition of the instruction brochure to their Japanese video. Those people prefer standing in the other end of that ballroom, pressed against the wall, fully aware that if anyone sees them, not to mention asks them to set foot on the floor, their lives are over. Those people, for that reason, are very rarely found in ballroom environments. Unfortunately, those people are very common even in the more elevated circles where there is a risk of actually finding a ballroom.

Artemis Fowl the second was one of them.

The seventeen-year old genius knew practically everything there was to know, from the wonderful art of chess (he had met and utterly crushed several world champions) to the more simple mysteries of breaking in at the safest places in the world. But still, there were a few things he absolutely could not manage. One of them was preparing a sandwich. Another was dancing.

Of course, he really had never put down much effort in learning it; he had never had reason to do so. A declaration from his mother, however, had changed the state of things. This December, to celebrate her own fiftieth birthday, Angeline Fowl had announced that she intended giving a ball. Artemis the second would rather have died than go near a dance floor, but he would also rather die than hurt his mother's feelings, and so he had, with the greatest reluctance, complied to attend.

This was the reason that Artemis Fowl, well known teenage genius and a criminal of sorts, was now standing in his room before a large mirror, glaring at the black dancing shoes on his feet. His collar was itching; the expensive tailor made Armani suit seemed uncomfortable in spite of its being made for his exact measures and in a particularly soft fabric. And his feet… They would not move. At least not in time with the slow wiener waltz playing on his stereo, and not in the direction shown in the large instruction book lying spread on the floor.

Artemis sighed, scolding the pathetic image he made, and kicked the book aside. Feeling irritation mingled with hopelessness rising inside him, he turned away from the taunting mirror and went over to the window facing the dark courtyard of the manor. Outside, the moon had risen and was shining dimly through the veils of snow filled clouds. The garden was covered in snow; only here and there were the outlines of trees or ancient statues visible beneath the white. It was a beautiful sight, but to the upset young man – he had turned seventeen some five months back but was intellectually on the level of the average fifty year-old professor – the tranquillity and simple charm of the view were nothing but a mockery of his own troubled mind.

Music, a cheerful waltz by Grieg, was still playing on the advanced audio-system. It only irritated him further, and he snapped it off with an impatient push at the remote control. This was ridiculous! He, a criminal genius with a few million pounds in cash on numerous Swiss banks and an intellect superior to most in Europe, was standing like a fool before the mirror with a pair of stupid dancing shoes on his feet, unable to do anything right. He would have slammed his fist on the marble window sill if it hadn't been so childish. But then, that would probably hurt, too.

Eventually deciding that this was all just childish, that if he simply tried harder and concentrated a bit more, this would all be much easier, he picked up the book again. He carefully studied the patterns of footsteps and the pictures of elegant gentlemen and ladies sweeping about with all hands and feet carelessly put in the right places. His hand on her waist, the other holding her hand, her gentle fingers placed lightly on his shoulder, the two of them gracefully melted together in complete harmony; the picture was one of perfection. And truly, it didn't look all that hard. If only he made enough of an effort, surely he must be able to accomplish that as well?

Biting his lip in concentration, a rather undignified thing he only did under severe pressure, Artemis yet again stood before the mirror, holding both hands towards an imaginary lady.  
One, two, three, one step to the left, lift the other, and… he tripped over his feet when standing on one leg with the other crossed over it, trying to lift the first in an involuntary attempt to defy gravity. Very un-gracefully falling to the floor, he swore inwardly at his own clumsiness. This was not working. He pushed some stray locks of his long black hair out of his eyes and seriously considered suing the author of the book. Then an idea came to the mind of the genius. He had read somewhere that it was easier to forget about the hands if you could hold something for real. Swiftly scanning the room for something of the right proportions, his eyes fell on one of the blue velvet laid out for ornaments on his white bedspread. They were of an acceptable size, and wouldn't be too heavy either.

With a stern look of determination, daring the pillow to challenge him, yet with a creeping feeling of embarrassment to be doing this at all, Artemis took hold of the corner of one of the pillows, carefully placing his hands where the book said they should be. The pillow, of course, had no arm to stretch out, so he had to hold it against him with one hand; the other he uncertainly left hanging in the air about a foot from his shoulder. So now his hands and arms were where they were supposed to be. All right, only the feet left. His jaw was set and his brow knotted in complete concentration as he took a deep breath, once more pushing the button to let the music play. Happy notes from an eager violin streamed from the speakers and Artemis Fowl counted the beat, warily taking a first step to the right. So far so… and then he tripped over those malign feet and fell flat on his nose with a loud thud.

He swore again, loudly this time, and then rose, suddenly very grateful that his parents had gone to Venice with Juliet for the weekend, doubtlessly set out to buy some expensive necklace or dress for Angeline to wear at the ball. It would have been even more humiliating to have Juliet come by to see what the noise was about, since she would most certainly have laughed her head off if she saw him. Even at twenty-two years of age, the younger Butler sister was awfully much of a teenage girl at times. Butler the elder was still at the manor, of course, but he was probably in the library with one of his weapon journals and would not be…  
"Artemis?"


	2. Help

_**Chapter two: Help**_

**The deep, inquiring voice** made Artemis spin round in surprise, and he didn't have the time to throw the pillow away before the door opened and the formidable shape of his bodyguard was visible.  
"I heard something, are you OK, Artemis?"  
The question was spoken so earnestly and with such warmth that Artemis decided to forgive his friend for opening the door without waiting for an answer. Butler's face, too, spoke only of the deep care and affection he felt for his young charge. As the older man's eye was caught by the pillow, the book and the shoes, however, Artemis knew he could not have the slightest chance of concealing what he had been doing, so before Butler had the chance to ask, the reply was given.

"I'm trying to dance, Butler. Only I can't."  
Feeling a light blush creeping onto his cheeks at the smile tugging at the corner of the bodyguard's mouth, Artemis turned away from the friendly yet so scrutinizing gaze, walking over to the stereo to shut the infuriating music off. With his back still turned, he explained as carelessly as he could:

"I will have to attend at mother's ball, and that will include dancing."  
"But you say you can't." Butler's response was unexpectedly soft, void of any mocking, and Artemis turned hesitantly.  
"No," he admitted.  
Then, more in mockery than with any real thought, he added  
"Can you?"

At this, he was surprised to see the huge bodyguard smile almost shyly, averting his eyes and fidgeting with a loose thread at the hem of his white cotton shirt. He looked as though he was thinking of a rather amusing but somewhat embarrassing memory, and if he had only had long hair, Artemis could have sworn Butler would have been twisting a tress around his finger. This uncharacteristic pause only lasted for a moment, though, and then Butler quickly turned his eyes back to the puzzled boy. His sharp cheekbones had gained some colour, but his voice was clear and his gaze steady as he replied,

"Yes, I can. I'm no expert, but I know the basics and I can manage most of the popular dances."  
He tried vainly to hide the smile that was slowly spreading over the finely-chiselled features, but it seemed to be caused by mirth rather than anything else. He added matter-of-factly,  
"Of course I haven't had time or reason to practise lately", he smiled, "but once you've learnt how to dance you won't forget it."

Artemis realised something.  
"Who taught you? It isn't very likely to be a major subject at the Body Guard Academy, I dare say?"  
His smile widening, Butler shook his head.  
"Not exactly. No, actually, I learnt most of it just like you, by myself with a pillow and a mirror." At this, Artemis blushed slightly. "And then Juliet taught me, since she did, in fact, learn it at the Academy. It might come in handy for a female bodyguard to know the basics of dancing in case she needs to attend some formal event or another. And then it might be an effective distraction for male victims." He smiled.

Artemis was silent for a few moments, staring into the middle distance whilst putting together pieces of information in his over-efficient brain. Butler patiently waited for his employer to finish the decision that was clearly forming in his head. He didn't have to wait long. Merely seconds later, Artemis turned his astonishingly blue eyes back to the waiting bodyguard, some slight hesitation showing in his face although his voice was determined. He wasn't used to be asking this kind of questions and didn't really know how to put it.

"Could you, I mean, if you would not consider it inappropriate and unless you are presently occupied, I would be very obliged if you would…" he broke off and stared at his feet. When he continued, his eyes were still fixed on the floor and his voice was so low Butler scarcely caught the words.  
"If you would teach me to dance."  
Butler at first just regarded his young charge, who was still not looking at him.  
True, a voice in his head said, it would be inappropriate, and equally true, the bodyguard knew what his sensei would have thought about being overly friendly to the object. But Butler also knew that he had long since passed the point where he became too attached to Artemis, and that no matter what rules or convention said, there was practically nothing he wouldn't do for the blue-eyed young man.

Taking a step forward, he put one hand on Artemis' shoulder, with the other gently pulling his face up to look at him. Seeing how the genius was torn between embarrassment and attempts to dignity, Butler gave an uncharacteristically warm smile and nodded.  
"Sure, I'll do my best."  
The teenage criminal did his best not to beam.

Butler hesitated, unsure how to avoid causing Artemis further embarrassment, and then acted as straightforwardly as he could.  
"Do you know the basics, or nothing at all?"  
"Nothing." The reply was short and irritated, but more from frustration than from anger. Butler nodded.  
"OK. I just need to have some grasp of where to start. Er…It's not very much space in here, but…" Artemis saw the point.  
"Perhaps we could use the sitting room on the first floor?" he suggested.  
"Sure".

Picking his words very carefully, so as not to put any pressure on the self-assured boy who was so unaccustomed to be asking for help, Butler started  
"Would you…should…", and then he gave up on coherency. "Now?" he asked simply.  
Looking relieved that he didn't have to pose that specific question, Artemis nodded.  
He was still blushing, which Butler couldn't help but notice made him look rather…cute.  
He mentally shook himself. That was **not** an appropriate thought about his charge. Wondering slightly however this was going to work, Butler silently opened the door and started to head for the stairs to the first floor. Without turning, he called over his shoulder,  
"And don't bring the book, OK?"  
He smiled when he heard the low thud of the book hitting the floor.

Artemis stood for a while in his room, looking absentmindedly at the pillow on the floor, then threw a quick glance in the mirror. To his annoyance, he realized that he was still wearing a somewhat stupid smile.


	3. Beat

_**Chapter Three: Beat**_

**Walking down** the broad stairways, Butler tried vainly to make his head stop spinning. Why had he agreed to do this at all? It was stupid, silly and undignified for both of them, not to mention very much inappropriate. But still, those blue eyes and that soft voice, asking for help…it was beyond even the experienced warrior to find the strength to say no. He cared more for Artemis than anything and anyone else, except for possibly his own sister, and his affection was deeper and more heartfelt then he could express. But lately, those feelings had come to include elements that…shouldn't be there. He had come to terms with being too attached to his charge, as long as his feelings were those of a close friend, a proud teacher or possibly an elder brother, but now…

He had, more and more often, found himself reluctant to stop looking into those clear blue eyes, found that he was going out of his way to be close to or touch the young genius. It was small things. A hand on the shoulder that rested for a moment too long; a knee touching a leg when he was sitting a tad too close; gazes all too willing to linger and lock… Butler knew what this was about. And although he knew, although his logical sense was crying out to him what he was doing, why, and why it was so wrong, he couldn't bring himself to stop. He simply couldn't help feeling that burning joy when Artemis' hand rested upon his for a second, when a small smile was given to him alone, couldn't help but like the thrill it flashing through him when Artemis at times fell asleep in a rented car or aircraft, his head resting against Butler's shoulder or his chest.

Coming down to the comfortably furnished sitting room, Butler snapped out of his thoughts. This was not the time for contemplating any deeper feelings for his charge. Quite the opposite really, Butler thought, as he reminded himself what he was here to do, and sighed silently. This was going to be difficult. After first checking the French windows for any snipers or curious by-passers, he went over to the advanced stereo at the left wall and chose a rather old CD of classical masterpieces. He pressed a few buttons, and soon a soft melody by Beethoven swept through the vast room. In the middle of the floor was a grand piano on wheels, which the massive bodyguard carefully pushed away. They were going to need space.

Having made sure there were no hidden assassins or electronic bugs in the room, Butler heavily sat down on a black leather couch by the wall, resting his hands in his lap. He stared out the window into the black night, trying to keep his mind blank. If he could avoid it, if he could just keep cool, this could work out without any embarrassment, any rash words or actions; he would… His thoughts were interrupted, however, by a soft knock, and as he turned around to face his charge, the chastened bodyguard felt his heart skip a beat.

In the dimly lit doorway, the light from the semi-sphere lamp in the ceiling fell softly upon Artemis' pale features and outlined his slender form. He had taken off the suit and was now clad only in a close-fitting white shirt, a few buttons open in the neck. He still wore the dancing shoes and a pair of suit trousers which marked him slim waist in a most captivating fashion. As if this had not been enough to raise his bodyguards pulse, the young gentleman had pushed his shoulder length hair to one side of the neck, leaving the other side exposed. Butler wondered absently if Artemis knew or just sensed that it was the style Butler thought suited him best. And that made his body respond in quite the opposite of the vain efforts of the guard to keep his head clear.

He stood for a moment in the door, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other loosely hanging from his pocket. In his face was an illegible expression that spoke of hesitation and awkwardness mingled with tense anticipation, but he smiled warmly, causing Butler to feel a slight rise of temperature in the room.

"You…" Butler knew he shouldn't, but he was not strong enough to resist the chance to say something, and he ignored the hoarseness of his own voice.  
"…you look good in that" he finally concluded, only half aware how stupid it sounded. Artemis merely smiled, however, and nodded in thanks, stepping into the room. He hoped Butler hadn't noticed the blush he felt burning in his face at the admiring words. Breathing out as those dark blue eyes left his, Butler turned to put the stereo on pause. Then, before facing Artemis again, he took a deep mental breath to focus. He nearly laughed as he thought of what his sensei would have had to say had she seen her top student falling to pieces for the sake of two blue eyes and an exposed neck. But those certain eyes...

"OK," he began, willing his voice to be steady, "let's see… you know how to count the time, don't you?"  
"Three beats for each bar." The logical genius was glad to be sure of something, and numbers were always reliable. Butler nodded in approval and went on. "Then there are the steps. We'll try the easiest, most basic steps of waltz, which is one step to the side, together, lift the left, back, one step to the right, together lift and back again." He was glad to see Artemis look somewhat relieved.  
"That seems rather simpler than in the book."  
"I should think so. Those patterns can be hell to read." He tried to smile, but it was hard to keep his mind on anything but the scent around the boy. Was he wearing _aftershave_? He nearly laughed as he realized he knew the scent. Passion, by Giorgio Armani. He had himself been with Artemis the day he bought it in the swanky Italian perfume boutique, and wondered to himself for whom the essence was intended. Now he had some notion, and it nearly made him shiver before he could restrain himself and focus.

Then, coming to the part he both dreaded and looked forward to, Butler did his best to ignore his increasing heart-rate.  
"Ok, now, I'll dance with you at first and take the lead, and then you'll try by yourself and then we'll see if you can take the lead."  
He hoped Artemis wouldn't disagree upon or question the point of them dancing together, and Artemis himself didn't seem to find this out of order, but simply nodded.  
"Well, I…" Butler took a step forward, slightly nervous and ready to kill himself for it. "…if you put that hand on my shoulder and the other one here in my hand…"


	4. Take the Lead

_**Chapter Four: Take the Lead**_

**After some** awkward fumbling to find a grip, the tall, broad man and the nearly a head shorter teenage boy stood on the floor, a few inches between their bodies, each as embarrassed as the other. Artemis, on his part, was very much conscious of the heat radiating from Butlers well-built form, of the musky scent of his after-shave and the softness of the large hand holding his. He didn't mind it at all, and that was what troubled him. He shouldn't be liking this as much as he was, and he knew it. Butler, on the other hand, was trying his utmost to ignore just how pleasant those warm fingers on his shoulder felt, and had a tough time not thinking about where he would rather move the hand he had firmly placed on Artemis' waist. The closeness of the young man- boy, Butler sternly reminded himself- was nearly too much, and it took all the inner focal points Butler had just to clear his brain. And remain coherent…

"Then… let's see… we should start with a step to the left. Your left," he added awkwardly and tried not to notice how close Artemis leg had just come.  
"And then lift your other foot and put them together, and a step to the right, and…"he went on until Artemis seemed to get the concept.  
Then, to avoid further embarrassment and to enable himself to think straight, Butler carefully but very much reluctantly disentangled himself.  
"OK," he said, taking a step back, hoping he didn't look as over-heated as he felt, "I think you get it, and we can add some music." He turned to the stereo, put it on and said a silent prayer that he would be able to keep some decorum for as long as this had to go on. He knew, however, that he might not.

And as the sweet notes of the flute, the harp and the violin surrounded them, and as Artemis put a soft, not at all reluctant hand on his shoulder, a bit too close to the neck than was necessary, and put his slender body in Butler's grasp, the grown man felt his self-control become severely destabilized. He sighed, and tried again.  
"One, two, three, one, two, three…" Butler silently counted the beat as the moved together in something akin to the rhythm of the music. His hand had slid up to the small of Artemis' back; he hadn't been able to deprive himself of that small treat, but he took pride in at least being able to maintain the distance. Only a few inches, but it helped keep his mind straight…

Artemis held on to his hand and shoulder, his head nearly resting against the broad chest of his guard. He was concentrating intently on counting the beat, moving his right foot and then the left, finally feeling that he had any idea whatsoever of what to do. The young criminal didn't like being a step behind, whatever the subject, but now, when the beat seemed to settle in his body and the music had its own way with him, as he was lead by someone who could show him without teaching him, he felt himself relaxing a bit. This wasn't so horrible, after all. Not all that complicated. And not entirely disagreeable either, this…closeness.

Never before had he really noticed how good and reassuring it could feel to have a sure hand holding yours, firmly but gently leading the way, taking the lead. And the hand on his back, warm, safe, moving slightly in a small, soothing caress…it felt better than he could ever have imagined. Knowing he shouldn't, half afraid to be pushed away, Artemis moved just a tad closer to the warm body, almost closing the distance that Butler had so vainly been keeping. Noticing that Butler didn't push him away, didn't seem bothered, he gave an inward sigh of relief. Then, without really thinking, without knowing how he ever found the courage and the absence of sense to put this thought, this whim into action, he placed his head to lie against Butler's warm chest.

Butler tensed slightly at the touch, and, realizing the situation, was uncertain how to respond, lest he ruin the moment and possibly more. He ventured, however, to tighten his grip ever so little around Artemis' waist, at which he felt, rather than heard, Artemis gasp softly. But not, Butler noticed with a strange feeling of exhilaration, out of surprise or repulsion, but from something closer to – the thought itself made him hesitate – pleasure. Butler's head reeled; could this be? Could it really be, that the one person he cherished most, wanted most, was in his arms, striving to be close, being held and…liking it? Could it be that Artemis…? He barely dared complete the line of thought, but yet the hand on his shoulder slid closer to his open collar, almost touching the bare skin, and he realized he must act. Not trusting his voice not to betray him, the bodyguard let go of his charge's hand, and, softly touching Artemis' cheek, caused him to look up.

The look in the young man's eyes – and in this moment, Butler realized he could not even to himself claim his protégé to be a boy – sent shivers down the soldier's spine. Those blue eyes were half closed in a dreamy, languid fashion, telling of the complete safety their owner felt in the embrace where he was held, but beneath, there was a depth, a darkness that turned the blue to black, from need and desire; they burned with an unveiled intensity that dazzled the man whose gaze they steadily met. He heard his own voice say  
"Artemis…" but the hoarsely whispered word was far away. He knew he was falling now, drowning in the nocturnal skies that were Artemis' eyes, but he couldn't care. As Artemis let his hand slide up along the bare skin of his arm where the sleeves of Butler's shirt was rolled back, up along the biceps and the broad shoulder, eventually leaving him standing with both arms around Butler's neck, the man within the warrior gave in.

Not reflecting, not quite aware what he was doing anymore, Butler roughly tightened his arm around the narrow waist, crushing the warm, lithe body against his own. Artemis drew a sharp breath, but did not let go his grip. Instead, he fixed the older man's eyes with his mesmerizing gaze, and, without a word, slid closer, cocking his head back slightly so that, in spite of Butler's considerable height, his face was merely inches away. When he saw the mixture of desire and nervous hope in the blue crystals, and when he felt a leg firmly, shamelessly slid between his own, the air caught in the bodyguard's throat, and he surrendered completely. A hand was pushed along a back, a short breath was taken, and as lips met lips, mouths opening hungrily, the world was reduced to the hot, wet, wonders of a first kiss. And the sweet notes of Bach floated away into the darkness of a December night.

Fin.


End file.
